He'd always felt it. The need to talk. About her.
Perhaps it was all the pent-up feelings he had, having attempted to suppress them for so long. He realised now that he had loved her since he had first met her, on that glorious first day, as he began to take his place in the wizarding world. On that first day, he felt special, important. And there before him stood that bushy-haired, buck-toothed, bossy little girl, who had chastised him for having dirt on his nose.
Ron laughed now at his foolishness. He scorned at his efforts to hide his feelings, something at which he had always been hopelessly inept. And these were strong feelings, make no mistake. And after having hidden them for so long (or tried to, anyway), he now had to talk about them. But to who?
Not her, said a voice in the back of his head.
He considered this for a moment. He considered all the times he had wanted to tell her how much he loved her, particularly when she had shown even the faintest interest in other boys. How angry he'd felt when she went to Slughorn's party with McLaggen, even though he'd been 'dating' Lavender, for want of a better word. He went cold at the thought of Krum, at the Yule Ball two years ago, who had clearly been smitten with Hermione.
He thought of other times he'd been jealous, too. Initially, he had been slightly jealous of Harry, and the interest she shown in him on the Hogwarts Express. Lockhart, and his pathetic incompetence. Even, to an extent, Lupin, although such childish feelings at the man who had been the best teacher Ron had ever known had long since diminished.
And all the times she'd made him happy – which she did unknowingly every day, just by being there. The way she rolled her eyes, as he and Harry would collapse laughing, indulging in their unique, mad brand of humour. The way she'd lecture him about homework, and would sigh in exasperation and amusement when he looked at her with his very best pleading expression. Oh yes, he loved her. So why not talk to her?
Not her!
But who else could he talk to? Harry would be the obvious first choice, but Harry was... well, asleep and snoring rather loudly, for one thing, and for another... no great shakes with relationships, truth be told. As far as relationships went, the best person he could think of was Ginny... Ginny, his favourite sibling, would understand. She already knew, that much was certain. That knowing look on her face when she caught him watching Hermione, or surreptitiously glancing at her out of the corner of his eye... yes, she knew.
But apart from him and Harry, Ginny was Hermione's best friend. He couldn't risk that. A long time ago, he might have attacked his sister for 'fraternizing with the enemy'... but he was older now. More mature. He reflected bitterly that being deeply involved in a war at the age of 17 would do that to you.
So who else?
At that moment, he felt that his heart would burst with emotion. He needed to talk, right now. Acting on impulse, he rose from his bed, looking at his watch. It was 6 in the morning. Although he had never been a morning person, he rose from his bed, dressed quickly and silently, and headed down into the common room.
NOT HER! said the immature voice in his head, in one last attempt to prevent him revealing his feelings.
But an older, cleverer and more loving voice in his head answered it, and he spoke its words aloud.
"Why not?"
-
She'd always felt it, too. The need to talk. About him.
She'd hidden her feelings too, she realised. Covered them up, fearing they would undermine her personality. She had not let herself love him, but had buried her feelings deep down, maintaining her know-it-all, bossy persona for years now. And as she lay in bed, she realised she didn't want to hide them anymore. She needed to talk to someone. But who?
Not him, said a voice in the back of her head.
She attempted, in vain, to analyse the problem rationally, like she always did. She knew that there was only one person, other than Ron himself, who she would willingly talk about this to. Ginny, who was to Hermione the younger sister she had never had, and much more. Ginny, who had always craved her advice about Harry, and who was so happily in love with Harry now, and he with her, that it made her proud, to think how far Ginny had come from her first year.
But Ginny had always looked to Hermione for answers; who had been lost, not knowing what to do, until Hermione pointed her in the right direction, knowing exactly how she felt, and suspecting that someday, Harry would feel the same. And she had been right, of course. She was always right. Knowing Harry since day one at Hogwarts had helped. Well, not exactly since day one. It had taken an attack from a mountain troll to finally create the bonds that were by now unbreakable, invincible.
But she had known Ron equally as long, and knew him equally as well. Shouldn't she, therefore, already have the answer as to what to do?
She remembered the advice she had given to Ginny, all those years ago. Be yourself. And realised that it was obvious. That she must do the same.
Herself was a difficult concept for her to grasp right now. She had let her mask of her feelings for Ron obscure her so much that even she wasn't sure who herself was anymore.
And so she tried to abandon it all. She abandoned the facade of bossiness, and even, now she looked on it from an outside perspective, smug superiority. She cringed as she'd remembered some of the things she'd said to people, as her determination not to feel too strongly for Ron had occasionally extended to everyone around her. She threw off her mask, and finally re-united her heart and mind. And the answer was there, plain and simple.
Talk to him.
She instantly got out of bed, checking her watch. It was 6 in the morning. With a warm smile to herself, she imagined Ron's expression at the idea of being up this early. But she had always been a morning person.
Not knowing quite why she was doing it, she got dressed and made her way down to the common room. On the way, she felt one last attempt by her former mask to overcome her again, as it screamed inside her head,
NOT HIM!
Gritting her teeth, she walked firmly on.
"Why not?"
-
They entered the common room simultaneously, and faced each other, shocked.
Ron spoke first.
"Hermione!" he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "What are you doing down here this early?"
She smiled, warmly. It was the first time she had done so in a long time, and Ron felt his heart skip a little inside him
"Just fancied... well, I guess I needed to talk to someone," she said, in a tone that was remarkably different to her usual, but that was so warm and reassuringly familiar. She used it when she was at the Burrow, over the holidays, but Ron had never heard her talk like that at school before. There had always been something stiff about her here.
"Actually... so did I," he said, quietly.
She looked up at him, and smiled. "Feel up to sharing?" she asked, and Ron marvelled at how beautiful she looked at that moment.
Ron swallowed. Now was the moment to do it.
"Well... there's something that's been bugging me for a while now. Too long, now I think about it. And I've tried to ignore it, and cover it up, but it won't go away."
He saw the smallest inkling of comprehension on her face. At least, he hoped he did.
"I... I think I know what you mean," she replied hesitantly, and he chuckled.
"First time I've ever heard you so unsure of yourself." She laughed then, which surprised him. He'd been expecting a scowl. But the laugh was so easy, so pure, that he could not help but join in. Eventually they stopped.
"I've been... hiding something too, I guess," she said, looking down and flushing slightly.
Ron moved a little closer. "Tell me about it."
She looked up at him, smiling. "But you already know, Ron."
He could not quite believe this was happening. But now, of all times, he had to be brave. His ears did not go red, he did not look away. He smiled, too.
"We've both been... well, a bit stupid, haven't we?" She nodded.
"That's an understatement, I'd say. We've both hidden our feelings, we've both hidden the best of ourselves from each other."
"I think it's time we changed that, don't you?" he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Definitely," she said.
They moved towards each other, and within a second both were in the other's arms, and both were kissing each other tenderly, gently, but with so much love.
After what seemed a blissful eternity, they broke apart. "I love you, Hermione Granger," said Ron.
She blushed in delight. "I love you too, Ron."
"Just as well," he said, with that lop-sided grin that made her heart melt. "Do you still fancy talking?"
She smiled, too. "I'd like that, very much."
And they walked out of the portrait hole, together at last.